by Leigh Turner
Sally walked boldly up to the gardener.
‘Could I have a word? In private?’
She was treated to a withering look from Lena, disdain for the insolent approach written all over her face. Her expression morphed into one of mock surprise, which she somehow garnished with a sneer.
Sally weathered the non-verbal storm as she waited. Only a second passed, but volumes were communicated before Tom spoke.
‘Yeah, sure. Out the back.’
Sally tried to maintain sang-froid as she followed Tom to the back door, glancing at Lena briefly so as not to look cowed. She wished she hadn’t, as the cook’s dark brown eyes seemed to bore into her. Not a person one would wish to make an enemy of, yet there was no going back.
Outside, Tom led the way to the garden. Sitting on a bench, he tapped the wooden slats next to him to beckon her to sit alongside.
‘What’s on your mind, then?’ he asked after she settled next to him.
‘I’d like to know what you get up to with Steven, really. That’s what’s on my mind. You know, seeing as he’s gay.’
‘Crikey! You do come out with it, don’t you? Since you ask, it’s no secret. I’m just keeping him in harness for Jane while you lot finish your competition.’
‘What do you mean, in harness? Are you lovers?’
‘No, no. I let him come into my room in the morning, that’s all. He loves to suck cock so I let him bring me off. Gets the blood flowing before my shower.’
‘So you are lovers, then?’
‘Well no, I wouldn’t say so.’
‘What about what you did to him in the kitchen in front of everyone?’
‘Look. He’s a gay slave. What I do keeps him in line. Jane’s orders. End of story.’
‘So are you heterosexual? Bisexual?’
He smiled.
‘Would you like to find out?’
The conversation was going her way now. She decided to gain an advantage while she could, knowing her eventual surrender might alter things.
‘So what’s Jane got planned for us on Monday?’
‘Mm.’ He hummed, looking at her. ‘I can’t tell you that. Not that I know for sure.’
‘You must know what she’s done in previous years.’
‘It’s not always the same. I could guess. But I won’t,’ he added hastily, laughing.
‘Not even if I …?’
He looked at her, a long and steady glance. Then he reached behind her shoulder and leant forward to kiss her. She shied back a little.
‘Look Tom. I’d like to sleep with you. But I’d appreciate a little help with this contest.’
‘What if Jane thinks you cheated? You could lose everything.’
‘I could lose it anyway. There are three girls within a few points of me. It might be worth the gamble.’
‘So the girls have made the running, have they? I’m not surprised; she likes to see girls on top. You might consider trying to gather some male acolytes. Jane expects females to rule the roost. You know that anyway.’
He paused.
‘I’ve probably said too much. Was that all you wanted, information?’
She responded by leaning across, kissing him fully, deeply, her tongue hungry and unrestrained. On and on for minutes, until she broke away.
‘Which one is your room?’
‘Top floor west wing, last one along from the stairs.’
‘I’ll join you soon. Wait for me.’
‘Sure.’
He smiled an easy smile. There seemed no side to it, he was comfortable in his own skin, a straightforward man. Not quite like the devious way her own mind was working now, she thought, as she walked up the stairs to join Simon.
Jane stirred from her slumbers at eight the next morning. While she performed her ablutions and took a quick shower, Max, donning a dressing gown, went downstairs to prepare a cup of tea.
Before he returned with the tray, she put on some black hold-up stockings with thin red ribbon decorating the garter area. Climbing back into bed, she hid herself under the covers. Max would have a nice surprise.
They supped their tea in bed, after which Max took a piss. He returned, hard and eager, having felt her stockinged leg under the covers.
Soon, she was wet, by his hand. As he went down to tongue her, she tried to cut his foray short, being ready now, wanting to ride his cock from above.
‘Get on your back. I want to queen you.’
His response was to climb up, and push his cock into her.
‘I want you from behind first.’
‘All right.’ She nodded her assent. It would be an added pleasure, before the dénouement.
Today, though, there would be no ejaculation as she rode his cock or queened and wanked him, and she would come to rue the moment she presented her ample rump to him, wearing nothing but stockings.
He had been shafting her, slowly and easily, for a minute or two, before she saw the bedroom door open.
Max made no move to intercept the intruder, but rather gripped her haunches tightly, holding her still, skewered and helpless on his cock. Through the door came Lena, followed by Oliver in his white robe.
‘What the hell …?’
‘Sssh now, Jane,’ said Lena, smiling.
She was wearing an exquisitely tailored corset top, in dark green, virtually strapless but for two thin lengths of soft cord which led from the side of the perfectly fitting breast cups, up over her shoulders. Below it she had on a leather miniskirt in black, finely meshed black fishnet stockings and green high-heeled court shoes. A thin velvet choker round her neck, inset with a faux emerald, complimented her beautiful face, serene and confident.
Oliver shut the door behind them and turned the latch. It was rarely used, as all understood it to be the height of effrontery to disturb the mistress unbidden. Until now.
He dropped his robe, and kicked off his pumps, displaying his dark brown body in full nudity. Lena, nodding to him, turned her gaze toward Jane, who began to struggle vainly to free herself from Max’s grip.
Oliver, following the gaze, crossed to the bed and knelt upon it, facing the disadvantaged Jane. He rose on his knees, presenting his impressively erect penis in his hand, at her face.
‘Suck on it, Jane. Suck and be fucked,’ said Lena.
‘You insolent bitch. What do you think you’re doing?’
Lena made no verbal reply, but crossed to Jane and placed her hand under the slightly flabby midriff. Jane, watching Oliver’s long cock weave slowly ahead of her like a mesmerising black serpent, now felt Lena’s bare finger begin to explore her clitoris as it rubbed the folds of skin which hooded it.
Gently, irresistibly, it found its target and worked upon it. Jane began to swoon, trying to stifle gasps of pleasure. Lena, though, was keenly aware of her condition as she continued her ministrations.
‘Suck, Jane. Enjoy it. Give in to it.’
‘No, no.’
The words were urgent, too urgent, lacking in control.
The slow teasing continued, possessing her now.
‘Suck or I shall stop the fingering.’
‘Ah. Bitch.’
The fingering paused, though the digit remained in contact with her clit.
‘Give in.’
‘No.’
The finger was now withdrawn. Jane’s consciousness was almost entirely ruled by the mass of nerve endings buzzing with desire for further stimulation.
‘Fuck her, Max.’
She was now ridden, and gave in to the strong cock. It ruled her cunt, and surely her clit would soon follow it in submission. Her weakened mind saw no way out.
‘Max is mine Jane, now, as is Oliver. You will submit to us today, sooner or later. Do you request the finger?’
‘No. How dare you?’ Her voice whispered in its weakness, revealing the gradual conquest of her will. The finger contacted her again as Max slowed, rubbing quickly, but then stopping once more.
‘Yes.’
‘What was tha
t, Jane?’
‘Yes, do it.’
‘Please would be nice. Suck.’
Jane opened her mouth, defeated. The dark helmet invaded her and she began to suck wholeheartedly, pleasuring its owner.
Any thoughts of bringing the humiliation to an end, by drawing ejaculations from the two males, were dissolved as Lena’s expert finger once more frigged her to ecstasy. She had become a sexual being only, the future and the past non-existent, as she revelled in her surrender, worshipping the twin cocks and the indomitable finger to which she must now pay homage.
It had not taken Sally too long to see to Simon, when she arrived upstairs. Watching him looking up at her, obviously naked under just the sheet, she stripped slowly, divesting herself of blouse, then boots, then skirt. She could see that her naked breasts held him rapt, so that it would be easy to surprise him with her next move.
Quickly, she straddled his head, facing toward his cock, making him look up at her white-knickered arse. Rubbing her crotch on his helpless nose, she treated him to the sweaty aroma, pheromone rich after a stimulating afternoon.
Sure enough, his dick stiffened, and she was able to masturbate him yet again. Despite his milking after the race, he had recovered sufficiently for his pulsation to delight her in a reasonably short time.
Exhausted, he soon dozed, and she left him, picking up her skirt and blouse but not dressing in them for fear of disturbing his slumbering state.
She had to descend to the first landing in order to climb the opposite stairs to the west wing. In just knickers and suspenders and stockings, the frisson of daring, even in this uninhibited establishment, thrilled her.
Fortunately, she encountered no other nocturnal wanderers, and entered Tom’s room in this state. Putting down her skirt and blouse, she found him in the bathroom having a wet shave, hair slicked back, nude from a recent shower.
She watched his cock rise as he finished his shave and towelled his chin. Then he was upon her, kissing, pushing her willing body back to the bedroom and onto the bed, and pulling her knickers to her knees.
She enjoyed the feeling of incapacitation wrought by the knicker elastic on her legs, and made no attempt to disentangle herself from them as he fingered her into full readiness. Then they were tugged away, and she spread wide for him as he inserted his cock gradually within her.
Eventually, they switched positions, and she rode upon him as he laid on his back, staring down at his face, his strong hands upturned, supporting hers as she gave vent to her passion, raising her loins up and down upon his phallus until she received his tribute and collapsed away from him, spent.
It was nearly ten when she rose. Her lover stretched luxuriantly, explaining that he had no pressing tasks that day. Dressing, she repaired to the kitchen in order to make them a coffee and return upstairs with a tray. Sod Lena, she thought. She would do as she wished, and brazen it. Jane seemed to have a soft spot for her, anyway. Lena was just the cook, when all was said and done.
But there was no sign of Lena, or anyone, come to that.
Lena was, in fact, in the dungeon cellar, with her male assistants and their captives.
Jane, after her surrender, had been immediately and unceremoniously cuffed, hands at the rear, and ball-gagged, with implements Oliver had brought in his gown pockets. Her feet were put into high, wide-heeled, single strap black shoes, and she was led out of her bedroom, flanked by the two males, proudly naked, each holding one of her arms.
She would do well not to prolong the frog march by resisting, Lena had explained, for the longer she was on the landing and stairs, the greater the chance she would be seen by one of the guest contestants, destroying her charismatic status at a stroke.
Jane could not argue with such logic, and responded with a nod and grunt of assent. The guttural expletive, unable as she was even to form the word “yes”, stung in her psyche as her status as prisoner began to sink in.
They avoided any contact with early risers, in the event, but the very threat of it induced in Jane the onset of renewed lubrication in her vagina. She felt like a new girl at a boarding school, naked and helpless, about to be subjected to a demeaning ritual, the content of which she could only speculate upon.
Once helped down the awkward cellar steps, she was taken past the room where the contestants had endured their bondage session, into the adjoining room where Celia had obtained her dildo the other day. Here, Jane knew, were kept all manner of obscure devices, locked in glass cabinets. She eschewed the possession of anything designed to deliver physical harm, other than the whips which she policed rigidly. However, there were many toys available to Lena should she wish, as she undoubtedly did, to bring Jane into further subjugation.
She was shocked, when they entered, to find Vanessa already there. She was seated in what might be termed an armless armchair, like a Victorian nursing chair, completely trussed in soft cord around her torso, her bare breasts framed above and below by the transverse cord. Her hands were tied behind her, and her feet, spread, tied to each front leg of the chair. She wore only black stockings and a white garter belt with narrow ruched top and thin suspenders. She too was ball-gagged, the small black ball enough to render her mute, but without risk of choking.
Jane looked at her friend, who stared back up, thick black bush on show at the top of her open legs.
‘Nnn nnh-nnh hnn.’ She tried fruitlessly to vocalise. Jane thought she might have meant “I’m sorry, Jane”, but it did not matter. They were trapped like flies in a web, and with Celia and Inez, living locally as they did, off the premises for the weekend, there was precious little chance of any immediate help.
Jane was led to the side of the room, where, in the open area, there stood some medieval-style stocks, albeit fitted with modern, well-padded neck and hand supports. Lena detached the upper bar, and she was pushed toward it, Max guiding her head from behind, onto the central recess just below head height. Lena locked the bar down temporarily, and her cuffs were undone. Then, one man holding each wrist, the bar was unlocked to accommodate the hands.
She resisted, seeing that two warders might not be quite enough to force her into the contraption.
‘Very well. Just her head again,’ said Lena.
Max pushed her again, adding insult to his betrayal. Gripping her left arm under his and guiding her head while Oliver pinioned her right, she was locked once more into the instrument, at her neck. She could not easily reach the locking pin at the end of the bar, so she was still imprisoned, standing, head forward, even though her hands were now released.
Lena next fetched over a leg-spreading bar with ankle cuffs at either end. Jane was no match for the men as they lifted her leg across to the second cuff, after which she endured the humiliation of having her legs splayed nearly a yard apart at the ankles. Finally, Lena solved the hand restraint issue by attaching a purpose-made metal bar in the form of a yoke, which, by means of leather cuffs at the ends and a padded curved section just below her neck, formed over the shoulder line to hold it relatively comfortably in place, completed her restraint.
‘Very well, Jane. You will be wondering at the purpose of all this.’
Jane fell into the trap of attempting to curse Lena, which provoked only laughter from her opponent.
‘What was that, Jane? Would you like to be able to speak? I might do a deal with you. Get the camera, Max.’
Max, fetching a digital camera from a cupboard, photographed Jane from several angles, even from his knees behind her. She could not turn her head away from his frontal shots and remained clearly identifiable, the almost naked madam thoroughly enslaved.
‘Take some of Vanessa while you’re at it,’ Lena instructed Max. ‘Now, Jane. I won’t reveal any of these shots if you promise not to shout for help. I know you’re a woman of your word. Have we got a deal? Grunt twice if you agree.’
‘Nnh, nnh.’
‘Good. No tricks now.’ With that Jane’s gag was released, by Lena herself.
Jane took a
slow breath, then spoke. ‘You bitch, Lena. You’ll pay for this.’
‘I certainly hope not. The idea is for you to pay me, really. Let’s see how we get on shall we?’
With that, Lena placed her right middle finger on Jane’s exposed pubic mound, and as it moved down to its target, the exquisite torture began anew.
‘Oooh. You bitch.’
‘Do stop with these insulting terms, Jane. It’s boring. Shut up or I’ll have you gagged again.’
After five minutes during which Jane tried in vain to hide her increasing arousal, the finger desisted.
‘Would you like to feel Max’s cock inside you, Jane? Would you like me to permit it?’
‘You bastard, Max. Why are you doing this? Why?’
The lack of any response was more annoying than any answer he could have given.
Lena approached again, fingering her boss, whispering in her ear that Max now belonged to her. As Jane began to quiver, she stopped the masturbation, and stood sideways on in front of her captive.
She unzipped the mini skirt and stepped out of it, revealing her green corset to be a basque which left her curved arse and mound of Venus exposed, for she wore no knickers.
‘Fuck me, Max,’ said the brown-skinned beauty. ‘Show her who your new mistress is.’
Max stepped across and obliged, guiding himself into her from behind as she bent at the waist. He then frigged her slowly and rhythmically, looking across at Jane from time to time, expressionless.
‘Ah, that’s good. Thank you, Max, you may continue a little longer. How does it feel to watch, Jane?’ said Lena, triumphant.
Jane was not about to say. It felt like defeat. Bitter, unadulterated, unmitigated defeat.
Chapter Sixteen – An Accommodation
Tom finally gave in to Sally’s cajoling, billing and cooing, and decided to spill the beans about Jane’s plans for a finale. It was, he supposed, safe enough if she didn’t find out about their plotting. And even if she did, he told Sally, she was prone to regard such machinations as showing initiative, rather than cheating.